By Every Other Name
by Sweetly Sarcastic
Summary: You could tell their story in the names he calls her.


Daydreamed this little drabble on Sirius and Hermione. Mostly compliant with the books, but I ignore a few bits I find inconvenient (like Hermione and Ron).

* * *

He called her many names. Not all of them she liked, but some, she was ok with.

At first, it was just "Hermione". He met her when she was thirteen, and the best friend of his godson. She came to visit him throughout the next school year. She often came alone, offering newspapers and foodstuffs smuggled from the Hogwarts kitchens. At first he thought she visited because she was an incredibly kind soul—which she was—but he slowly realized that her own loneliness was a factor. She did not have many friends at school, outside Ron and Harry, who were themselves increasingly busy. People her own age weren't keen to be her friend. He hated to admit it, but if he had been her year again, he wouldn't have been keen to be her friend either. But he had matured, and at 31, he could appreciate her friendship.

After the war, it was "Granger". He had emerged from the Veil just as mysteriously as he had disappeared into it, having not aged a day. She had aged just 4 years since he had first met her, but those four years had changed her greatly.

Hermione had been a girl. She had been sweet and quiet and thoughtful in the cave where he had hidden. But Granger was a woman. A strong survivor of war. A woman who knew her own incredible strength and intellect. A woman who was increasingly beautiful as well.

He had to call her "Granger" to distance herself from the girl he had known. Calling her by her last name also put a level of distance between them that he needed. Because Granger had grown up, and he wasn't comfortable with the feelings he was developing for her. She was too young. Just four years ago she had been a child. And she was living in his house, along with Harry and most of the Weasleys.

He called her a "whore" once, with total seriousness.

She had gone out drinking with Harry, Ginny, and Ron to celebrate her birthday. They had invited him, but he didn't think he could handle being with her in a club, although he didn't tell them that.

He'd woken up in the morning and been greeted with a stranger in his kitchen offering him tea. He'd nearly punched the bloke, and when he left the kitchen and headed back to Hermione's room, he wished he had.

After her one night stand had left, Sirius had yelled at her. He said he didn't like strangers in his house, and she was a fool and a whore to bring someone home anyway. She'd slapped him and burst into tears before running to her room and being absolutely silent for the next two days.

He called her "sweetheart" when he really wanted something. The first time he called her "sweetheart" was two days after he called her "whore". He was standing outside her door, begging for forgiveness. "Sweetheart" had slipped out of his mouth just as easily as "whore" had.

Sometimes, it was "Miss Granger". They developed a bit where they would sometimes be stilted formal with each other. They would keep at it until one of them broke and laughed. Usually, she broke first, but she could keep him laughing for hours.

He called her "love" when he was being patronizing. As in, "love, you know you're a witch, right?" or "I believe the chicken is dead, love. Has been for several hours, actually." He delivered the name with an arched eyebrow and a mocking tone, using the word to tease.

But he always felt a secret thrill of it when he called her "love". Burying the word in sarcasm was the only way he could say it out loud.

He called her "princess" when he was annoying the fudge out of him with prim lectures on manners and proprietary. When she was scolding his drinking, or the state of his house, or how he was still refusing to work a normal 9-5 job. She hated "princess", but it only riled her up more, and then she'd get on his case for name calling, and he would never tell her, but sometime he called her "princess" just because she thought she was sexy when her face got red and she put a hand on a hip and told him off.

He called her by her full name, "Hermione Jean", when he was being absolutely earnest. It was the first time in years he had called her by her given name, but it was right. It was time. They were talking in the library, her favorite haunt, and therefore, progressively, his favorite as well, about the war, and all that had been lost, and their tenuous places in the new, tumultuous world. He often felt adrift at sea, and he couldn't tell her, but he often felt she was a shoreline, just barely out of reach, but someday, surely, a redemption.

He called her "Mion" when he kissed her for the first time in the library. And nearly every time after that. At first it was just when they were alone in the library, but her eagerness emboldened him and he quickly found himself stealing kisses in corners and pulling her into empty closets all over the house. It was a secret nickname, only for private moments. She loved it. It was probably her favorite nickname.

He called her "darling" when he was being tender and sweet to her. When she had to stay home sick for two days, he been a patient nurse and brought her soup and every potion imaginable. When he wasn't running to fetch things for her that she insisted she didn't need, he was cuddled up with her in bed, stroking her hair and rubbing her back, despite her protests that she looked dreadful and would get him sick as well.

When she was proven correct, as always, and he was in bed with a fever just days later, he called her "sweetheart" when he wanted soup and tea and whiskey, and she complied tenderly with the first two and refused on the third. He called her "sweetheart" a few more times as he wheedled for alcohol to numb the edge and she finally relented, but only a little bit.

He called her "babe" when they quarreled. It was a term of endearment that could be easily spat with disdain. A single syllable of frustration and irritation. "Babe" was belittling.

"What a brilliant insight, babe, thanks for sharing," he would sneer.

"Thanks for your entirely unwanted opinion, babe," he would snap.

She hated it. But she stood her ground. They quarreled about his drinking, and her long hours at work, and his mother's awful portrait, and flying on broomsticks, and the things he taught Teddy, and proper punishment for former death eaters, and how he "could _never_ fucking remember she was allergic to strawberries."

When they made up, he called her "baby." Somehow the extra syllable made all the difference. Not that she heard, really, when his tongue was in his mouth and his hand was up her shirt.

Harry walked in on them making up in the library once. He quickly learned to avoid them when he heard Sirius call her "baby".

He never did call her a whore again. But he did call her a slut and a minx and a tease when he was talking dirty to her. She found that in this context, she did not mind being called names, and she called him several names of her own while he did unspeakable things to her.

Outside of the bedroom, he began calling her "honey". It was his everyday, casual, affectionate epithet for her. At the breakfast table, he'd say "honey, please pass the butter", and when she left for work he'd say "have a good day, honey," and she when came back, he'd greet her at the door and say "welcome home, honey." It was obscenely domestic and he loved it.

She was "darling" again, for weeks, when he found out she was pregnant.

She was "darling" again, for months, when she lost the baby.

After that, his epithets didn't fit anymore. She wasn't the same girl anymore, and the old names didn't fit. She was different. He was different. There was less laughter and more long looks, and tighter hugs, and colder nights. Instead of teasing her, he would fold her into his chest and whisper "are you ok?". Her hands were often tightly clasped in his, not gesticulating wildly as she told a story or told him off.

And so her called her "darling" and held her close and stroked her hair until he could almost forget that they had woken up one morning to a tangle a bloody sheets.

The old epithets creeped back in slowly. He started with "Hermione Jean", during their long heart to hearts when they lay cocooned in his bed, hiding from the rest of the world, when they discussed their future, and he realized that he did want children, or at least, children with her, and would do in willingly, and on purpose.

"Mion" was quick to follow. Every time he saw her smile, he loved her a little more, and realized he had nearly forgotten how beautiful her smile was. When she smiled, he couldn't help but to kiss her.

He called her "princess" again a few months after, as they were setting the table for their first big dinner with friends and family since they'd lost the baby, and she was fussing over the way he arranged the table.

She had hit him with a napkin. "I'm not a princess, I'm just not a _barbarian_ " she had insisted, and he had kissed her again, hard, just for being such a sanctimonious and perfect know-it-all.

He called her "babe" again she was trying to get him out the door for the Christmas party at the ministry. "God forbid, babe, we miss 10 minutes of mindless milling about with people you don't even like".

Her green dress was elegant and appropriate, but also a tiny bit sexy as it hugged her curves, and it was very distracting as he tried to decide if and how and where and when he should propose to her that night, and he was very frustrated and the third time she told him to hurry up, and she asked "what in Merlin's saggy ball sack is holding you up", he just blurted it out and shoved the ring at her.

He called her baby a lot that night. On the floor in the hall, against a wall, and then over and over again in his bed. They never made it to the party. She found she did not particularly care.

He called her by her full name, Hermione Jean Granger, when he vowed, with full earnestness and sureness, to love and care for her for the rest of his life ("and any lives that may be resurrected after it" he had added).

And after that, he had called her his wife, for the rest of his life. But most of the time, it was "Mrs. Black". He decided it had a nice ring to it. At least, it did when it was her: Hermione Jean Whore Mion Babe Baby Princess Darling Honey Granger Black.


End file.
